Luyện nghe bài hát Light Pollution

John A. Hobson was a man
He used to me books and mic stands
He even got me a
To the Review

Listening to records in his
Old folk songs the government
It's love of money not the
He said these fuckers on you

And yells, it don't cry
Whatever will decide
But there's no when you die
So don't so worried

He got a night life, his day job
Pushing papers, swinging
Anything to a function
Or to occupy time

You earn this living somehow
You're good as without a bank account
But funny how alive he has felt down
In that unemployment

all that trash at his feet
The pools of piss in the
All of that empathy
For the way feeling

worry
Don't
worry

The shade
The flags wave
The anthem's loud
The baseball game was out

And all at
You saw the dust and
Every sound
Got in his truck and turned

out through the crowd and the cops
Drove out past that mall
Drove out past that sprawl
Out past fenced in gold

And maybe he lost
with the radio
But I bet the stars so close
At the end

At the end
At the end
At the end
...